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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27600737">The Sun [deleted scene nr.2]</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTroll/pseuds/LadyTroll'>LadyTroll</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Sun [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gloryhammer (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Not Canon Compliant, POV Ser Proletius, dad Proletius basically, in his place I'd be concerned too, the regular GH disclaimer applies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:29:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27600737</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTroll/pseuds/LadyTroll</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>This comes right after <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27382933/chapters/66918325">this chapter</a>, but it didn't fit the overall mood of the fic, so deleted scene it is.</p><p>I swear, everything can be a party, for some -.-</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Sun [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000338</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Sun [deleted scene nr.2]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This comes right after <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27382933/chapters/66918325">this chapter</a>, but it didn't fit the overall mood of the fic, so deleted scene it is.</p><p>I swear, everything can be a party, for some -.-</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Truth to be told, Ser Proletius was still not entirely sure why he even needed a room to himself, as a hologram. As far as he was concerned, the drone, in a stand-by mode, could just as easily rest on a bookshelf somewhere, but everybody kept insisting he was a treasured guest and needed a place to stay, even if that stay might only be for a few hours.</p><p>Which, in retrospect, was a good idea, for, at the moment, everybody appeared to have forgotten about the Hologram Hero of Light. Or, at the very least, the drinks and the food in the hall below were more tempting than the company of an old knight who had died a little less than a thousand years ago. In other words, had he not been issued a room, Ser Proletius would have most likely been circling, agitated, around a library full of distractions that might have swayed his attention from the problem at hand – and the late Grand Master of Crail was determined <i>not</i> to be swayed from it and to continue being mad about things that were, admittedly, out of his control and even influence.</p><p>Steps – and somebody’s voice – became audible in the distance. If the steps he did not recognize at first, then the noise (for it was hard to call it “singing”, which it was very much <i>intended</i> to be, even despite the fact they could not have picked a less appropriate night for that) Ser Proletius had had the pleasure to hear multiple times across his original lifetime as well as his existence as the Hologram Hero of Light. Wherever the Hootsman went, chaos and complete and utter disregard for other people’s personal space and peace were sure to follow, especially if he was accompanied by his trusted growler – and he was <i>always</i> accompanied by his trusted growler.</p><p>- Proletius!</p><p>The door opened with a bang, and there stood the Barbarian King of Unst, in person, with his trusted growler in the right hand, and with his left arm around the waist of a bit groggy, giggly lady who might or might not have been a distant cousin of Angus’ – Ser Proletius did not feel confident in his knowledge about the current genealogical tree of the McFifes. If the royal hairdressers and stylists had been able to force <i>the prince</i> into a more formal look for the night (or its official part, at least, as Proletius had witnessed earlier), then whoever was responsible for the <i>Hootsman’s</i> public appearance had failed their quest completely, for the barbarian was… well… as barbarian as they came. Complete with the ever-present vest made of wolf pelts, and his allergy to all things even remotely resembling a shirt.</p><p>- Is good to see you, man!</p><p>And a complete lack of volume control, too.</p><p>Proletius growled something under his nose, and the Hootsman grimaced, clearly not having expected such thing from the late Grand Master of Crail.</p><p>- What seems to be the problem, old friend?</p><p>The only positive thing about the situation was that, despite his constant weakness for alcoholic drinks, the Hootsman never seemed to be in an actual inebriated state. At the very least, Proletius could not recall hearing of or seeing the barbarian being more than just tipsy, or in a state he could not bounce back from, were it required.</p><p>- Aside from the fact that you’ve awoken me for the thirtieth time this millennia, you mean?</p><p>- Well, yeah! – the Hootsman nodded, vigorously so, and the lady under his arm giggled and tried to snatch the growler from his hand. – Ush! Ush! That’s no drink for a lady! Tell you what, - the barbarian released her, - you go ahead, and I’ll join you soon, right?</p><p>- Just don’t take long, then! – his companion giggled again, an obnoxious, high-pitched, theatrical sound, like it was thrown in solely for the sakes of flirting alone.</p><p>Proletius winced. He had to admit, he had never been one to understand such pastimes, and probably never would be. His had always been a world of military and eagles, not flirting and romances.</p><p>Although he was sure that whatever was going on with the Hootsman and the occasional object of interest was as far removed from flirting and romances as a goblin peasant was from a Dundonian princess.</p><p>- I won’t. Promise! Run along, now! – the Hootsman landed a hearty slap on his lady friend’s buttocks, with that drawing a squeal from her, and the Hologram Hero of Light had to refrain from facepalming. – Now, - the barbarian continued, once he had sent his date (or whatever she presented of herself) on her merry way, - tell me; what’s gotten you so agitated, baldie?</p><p>Ser Proletius kindly pretended he had not heard the last part. Life became a lot easier for people who pretended not to hear the Hootsman, for his lack of social filters was, indeed, legendary.</p><p>- I am afraid it is a problem that will leave many people upset.</p><p>- Nonsense! People can handle it!</p><p>- Very well, if you insist, - Ser Proletius clasped his hands behind back, before approaching the barbarian, - then tell me; what is Angus?</p><p>- Huh? </p><p>The Hootsman took a quick swig from the growler, before setting it on the table next to the door.</p><p>- What is Angus?</p><p>- Well… uh… I don’t really understand what you mean?</p><p>- I mean, what is Angus, to the king and the queen? What is Angus, to you as well?</p><p>- Well, - the Hootsman stroke his beard a couple of times, then some more, for a good measure, - the prince, and a mighty warrior. The heir to the Crystalline throne. A friend, and an ally. A really, <i>really</i> good friend.</p><p>- Is he now? – The hologram smirked, before turning his back on the barbarian. – Are you <i>sure</i> he’s all that? Because to me, he seems more like you all raised him to be the pig brought in for the slaughter.</p><p>- Now, now, baldie, that’s a damn ugly thing to say, - the Hootsman dropped into the nearest chair.</p><p>- Oh, is it? Have you talked to him? Aside from bragging about yet another conquest of a woman who doesn’t think she could do better than that?</p><p>- Oh! so that’s what this is all about! – the barbarian clasped his hands, theatrically so. – Relax! The kid’s just lost his dad! Of course, he’s scared! That’d be scary for anyone! All that mess with the goblins, and that blasted wizard, too, and now he’s got to lead an empire! Everybody would get cold feet, from that!</p><p>- I thought somebody who’s more or less been around the prince’s whole life should be more attentive!</p><p>- Attentive? He’s fine!</p><p>- Hootsman, please! – Ser Proletius raised his voice, determined to be heard, if not understood. – I know you’re not… the most observant of people. So, can you, <i>please</i>, just trust me on this one? He’s not fine, he’s not okay, he’s in desperate need of help, he’s—</p><p>- He’s not a child.</p><p>The hologram silenced, taken aback by the barbarian’s interrupting him.</p><p>The Hootsman sighed.</p><p>- Look, I see what the problem here is. The previous time you met Angus, he was fourteen. He’s no longer that, Proletius. He’s not a child anymore. He’s all grown up, now. And he’ll do great as a king, believe you me, despite what he himself might think. He’s got all the right traits for that.</p><p>- That’s not… forget it. Perhaps you are right, - Proletius bowed his head at the barbarian, in a sign of truce.</p><p>- I am!</p><p>- I said, <i>perhaps</i>. – Nonetheless, the late Grand Master of Crail knew when surrendering in an argument was for the best. – I am sorry, I’ve been keeping you from your own… business.</p><p>- You really ought to worry less, baldie! I personally think you just pulled the wrong immortality card, there, is all! It’s no fun when you are just summoned at will and then put to rest again! Hey! Idea! I bet it’d do you good, if we could get you, - while talking, the Hootsman drew half a circle with his hands in the air, at about the same level as his face, - a nice hologram girlfriend~! What you need is to get l—</p><p>One of the Significant Advantages of being a hologram projected into the mortal realm by a drone was that Ser Proletius could just switch himself off as he pleased.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Russian pearl of wisdom: "Водку мы пьем для запаха, дури и своей хватает."<br/>which translates roughly as: "We drink to have the smell, because we already have the dumb."<br/>something something Hootsman something. Well, you got the idea, hopefully.</p><p>Also, yes, I put a Spongebob meme in there, don't @ me.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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